


After Midnight

by lucian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Implied Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucian/pseuds/lucian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professors Snape and Potter walk alone at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for firewhiskeyfic's "Back to School" challenge over a couple of hours. I had one bottle of red wine. Um, I’m a heavyweight. Probably wasn’t fair. XD Also, not perfect, but pretty damned good, considering.

  


Professors Snape and Potter walk the dark halls of the castle long after the students are in bed: Professor Potter developed insomnia after the Final Battle, and Professor Snape hasn’t slept since the First War.

Sometimes, in the long, cold hallways, they hold hands. So far this year they’ve obliviated seven students, two professors, and Headmistress McGonagall. _Twice._

No one needs to know about them. The Maurader’s Map remains priceless for keeping secrets.

Both Professor Snape and Professor Potter have found a happiness in the other that neither ever dreamed to find, and they both hold a deeply ingrained and desperate fear of losing the only love they’ve ever known. Because of this, no one can know. Its very existence is too fragile to acknowledge, except to each other, and they will sacrifice everything to keep it safe.

Every night, Professor Potter floos to Professor Snape’s quarters from his own (except on the rare nights when Professor Potter has detention until late into the night and Professor Snape is drunk and impatient and refuses to wait for Potter to shower and shave and eat and whatever other useless tasks he sets himself before coming over and getting his brains fucked out on the kitchen floor).

Every morning, Professor Potter changes into a robe that doesn’t smell like Snape, pours coffee into his own mug, and makes sure he’s seen leaving his own quarters.

Three house-elves have apparated into Professor Snape’s quarters while Professor Potter has been there (legs spread, cock hard, begging for things that no sane man should ever want). House-elves don’t ever run away, but no one has a better guess as to what happened to them. (The rest of the house-elves know better, and they aren’t saying anything.)

If Professor Potter’s magic wasn’t so strong, perhaps Hogwarts herself would be able to tell the Headmistress everything that happens within her walls, but she cannot. To the best of the castle’s knowledge, Professors Snape and Potter do not exist. She does not hear the spells they cast; she does not see the nights they spend together in sweaty, all-consuming passion; she does not hear the screams that come from deep within the dungeons, the Room of Requirement, or the Chamber of Secrets.

It is rare that these are screams of pleasure.

Pleasure, in these instances, comes in the form of fluttering eyelashes, a long exhale, and a sound that that is somewhere between a begging whimper and decadent cruelty. The screaming comes from serial killers, rapists, and ex-Death Eaters. Or more precisely, _previous_ Death eaters.

Because there is no such thing as a _former_ Death Eater.

Even in the case of Professor Snape.

Malfoy, Greengrass, Zabini, Bulstrode, Crabbe, Nott. No one knows where they have gone, and no one really cares: so much for _innocent until proven guilty._

Professors Snape and Potter spend their weekends locked away in the depths of the castle, purging Wizarding Society of those who would destroy it. Some very few students have noticed the correlation between the extreme relaxation of Professors Snape and Potter come Monday morning, but not one has spoken of it. Most assume that all professors start the week in pleasant spirits and end them homicidally.

Not a single student realizes how accurate this hyperbole is.

Professors Snape and Potter spend every Saturday and Sunday evening bathed in blood. Sometimes they laugh about how every teacher needs to kill a few problem students to make their way happily to the end of the year.

Sometimes this ends in a full hour of unbridled laughter. Professor Potter may be the only person alive who can handle Professor Snape in full, unreserved hysteria.

No one else has ever seen it.

No one else ever will.  



End file.
